Castile Soap Cream for Finishing I advocate using Castile soap for finishing some pieces of furniture. Itโs non-toxic, easy to repair and gives light-colored woods a whitish glow.
Never heard of soap finish? Iโve written and recorded a lot about it. Hereโs an introduction.
The only problem people ever have with soap finish is making it. I use soap flakes from the Pure Soap Flake Co. plus boiling water. Different ratios of water:soap will give you a different finish. Sometimes I hear from people who just cannot get the soap to make anything other than a watery goo.
Iโve had that problem with really old soap flakes (those that are more than a year old). But some woodworkers have had the problem with fresh flakes. Weird, I know. I donโt know how to fix their problem from afar except by suggesting they buy the Castile Cream Soap, which is already mixed. Itโs $10 for an 8-ounce jar, which will get you started on a single project.
It is mixed to have a consistency like hand soap. Scoop it out of the jar with a soft cloth and rub on a thin coat on the bare wood. When the water dries, buff it off with a clean, soft cloth. It will leave a matte and soft finish behind.
No, itโs not durable. Itโs soap. But it is easily repaired and renewed.
If you need an introduction to this kind of finishing (the kind that doesnโt kill you and looks better with wear), please read this.
FIG. 73. Wooden spoons: 1. Spoon from Muhu, Mรคla village, ERM A 290:150; 2. Spoon from Karja, Koikla village. EM 16957.
The following is excerpted from “Woodworking in Estonia.”The author, Ants Viires, devoted his life to recording the hand-tool folkways of his country without a shred of romanticism. Viires combined personal interviews and direct observation of work habits with archaeological evidence and a thorough scouring of the literature in his country and surrounding nations.
If all this sounds like a dry treatise, itโs not. โWoodworking in Estoniaโ is an important piece of evidence in understanding how our ancestors worked wood and understood it more intimately than we do. Viires records in great detail everything from the superstitions surrounding the harvesting of wood (should you whistle in the forest?) to detailed descriptions of how the Estonians dried the wood, bent it, steamed it and even buried it in horse dung to shape it for their needs.
Viires covers, in detail, the hand tools used by the Estonian, including many that will be unfamiliar to moderns (a beehive turner?). He then discusses all the different products Estonians made for their own use and for sale in the markets, including bent-wood boxes, chairs, chests, tables, sleds, carriages, spinning wheels, spoons, tobacco pipes, bowls and beer tankards.
During the Early Middle Ages the hollowing method was at least as important in peasant woodwork as was the process of hollowing the contours of timber. Special tools were used for this process, such as the scooping axe, the hive-scooping blade, the spoon chisel, the draw knife, etc. which, as we have already seen, were used already in the Early Middle Ages. Moreover, their forerunners date as far back as the Stone Age. The Estonian language has many words meaning โhollowingโ (โรตรตnestama, รตรตnitsema,โ southern Estonian โkaivama, kaevamaโ). Similar words bearing the same meaning are known in other Finno-Ugric languages. The scooping of small objects, such as spoons, cups, etc., are usually described by the words โkรตverdama, kรถรถveldama, kรตm(m)eldamaโ (Finnish: โkovertaaโ); this also has a bearing on the terms used for the spoon chisel and draw knife.
The common feature of all the above utensils is the quality of the timber from which they were made, which usually had to be green wood. Its softness made it pliant.
Hollowed utensils may be divided roughly into two groups based on the technology of production and outward appearance. The first group contains objects such as are scooped out from the side (spoons, ladles, certain kinds of shovels, cups, troughs, boats, coffins). The second group covers the utensils processed from the top with an inside penetration forming a cylindrical body, such as vats and a number of household containers. In working the former group the main tool applied is the scooping axe (for smaller objects the spoon chisel and draw knife), whereas working the latter group requires the use of the hive-scooping blade as well as the draw knife.
Objects Scooped from the Side. Until the beginning of the century, spoons and ladles for home use were generally produced by the peasants themselves. The preferred timber was that of birch, hard pieces of birch root and sometimes juniper. To prevent these articles from cracking, they were frequently boiled in hot water (they were also known to have been dried in the bread oven) (4). The bowl parts of the Estonian spoons (as well as the Latvian and Finnish ones), are of elongated shape, differing in this respect from the Russian round-bowled spoons. (5)
Often the spoons were covered with carved designs (Fig. 73). The Russian spoon with the round bowl, often pointed, became known in Estonia in the course of the 19th century mainly through being introduced by men returning from military service from Russia. Only toward the end of the century did the Russian spoon appear in the shops, or they were bought from by hawkers. The following is from Rรคpina: โLater, about 40 years ago [= ca. 1900] then no longer country spoons were made for eating. The Seto people started to bring and sell wooden spoons. The Seto exchanged spoons against grain and rags. There was a factory in Pihkva (Pskov) that made them. It was better to eat with factory spoons than with spoons made by ourselves. There was thick paint on them and there was no need to wash them so thoroughly and the color stuck well. Country spoons remained only for making of butter and cooking. Old people, who had not been accustomed to eat with the other spoons, ate a long time with self-made spoons.โ (6) In the first decades of the 20th century metal spoons put a full stop both to country spoons as well as the Russian wooden spoons as tableware. Wooden spoons remained in use only in cooking.
It is worth mentioning that although the Estonian and Russian wooden spoons were quite different, the word โlusikasโ (south Estonian โluhits, luitsโ) is actually an old Russian loanword (Old Russian โะปัะถัะบะฐ,โ Russian โะปoะถะบะฐโ), as a result of which it has been believed that Russian spoons were spread already quite early as an article of trade among Baltic-Finnic people, and because of it the original old names have been forgotten. (7) One of such old names could be โkoost,โ which denotes a wooden spoon on the western shore of Saaremaa and Hiiumaa (Karuse and Varbla). That Russian spoons were actually found in the Baltic counties at an early time is confirmed by a find of typical Russian spoons in Riga, in all likelihood from the 13th to the 15th centuries. (8) To a certain extent the previous position is in a certain contradiction with what people have stored in their memories โ which, as we have seen, link the appearance of Russian spoons at a rather late date. It is also interesting that the word โlusikasโ (spoon) has in its turn spread into the speech of Russians on the other side of Lake Peipsi as โะปัะทะธะบโ (9) (it may be to distinguish it from the different spoon with a longish bowl which Avinurme home industry people could have sold on their commercial travels in the 19th century on the other side of Lake Peipsi). The words used for ladle, โkulpโ or โkulaโ (the latter is a west Estonian term used to describe a ladle with the bowl at an angle, used to scoop milk from the urn), are probably of BalticโFinnicorigin. (10) On the other hand the south Estonian term โkoppโ originates from the Lower German โkoppe.โ (11) The same word is applied in other parts of Estonia to mean a wooden bowl with a handle. In the Vรตru dialect and in other eastern parts of the country the wooden bowl with a handle, especially the one for use in the bath, is known as โkorets, karitsโ (Russian โkoretsโ).
FIG. 74. Hollowed bowl, Pรตlva, Kaapa village, ERM A 227:86.
Bowls (Fig. 74) were usually made of softwood โ linden, aspen, alder, sometimes also from birch. Usually they were made from a stem cut in two, crosswise, although lengthwise was sometimes preferred. The latter were not as durable and had a tendency to crack. Tools used in the manufacture of homemade bowls were the scooping axe, the chisel and the draw knife. However, in the 19th century most bowls were already being produced by turnery, and the bowl ceased to be a homemade article (see the chapter on Turning). There are only a few such bowls in museum collections, as by far the greater number of bowls have been turned. This shows that in the 19th century making of bowls was mostly the duty of turners, and no longer belonged to the circle of the peasantโs home carpentry. The production of bowls by hollowing was a laborious process often aided by burning. This may be seen from extant bowls such as one from Lรผganuse, where โthe hollow was burnt out, not hollowed out. After burning it was smoothed over by a rough stone.โ (ERM A 395 : 142). Following is a fuller description from Viru-Jaagupi: โThe bowl was first hollowed out by a chisel; you then put hot, glowing charcoal inside and blew to keep it glowing. Ever so often you scraped out the burned wood and threw out the ashes. Then you put in more coal and went on burning until the bowl was deep enough.โ (12) There are no specific words in the Estonian language to denote a bowl hollowed out by burning. The word โkaussโ (bowl) is borrowed from Latvian โkauss,โ while the southern Estonian dialect uses the term โliud,โ which is closely connected with the Latvian โbฤผodaโ and the Russian โblyudo.โ (13) The old northern Estonian terms โge(n), vaanasโ have also been taken from the Russian โvaa-ganki.โ (14) In the coastal area and in Hiiumaa the word โtisk, tiskiโ has its origin in the Estonian-Swedish dialect (< Swedish โdiskโ), as well as from the Finnish (< Finnish โtiskiโ < Swedish). (15) All these terms could be found already in 17th century dictionaries. At the same time, none of them are any older than the millennium. It is quite evident that they became popularly known in the Early Middle Ages. We can further deduce that, previous to feudal days, i.e. during the communal primitive society, earthenware bowls were mainly used. With the introduction of turnery, the wooden bowl became the dominant tableware in the peasant home. (16)
FIG. 75. A washing trough in the yard, Rapla, Tรตrma Village, Photograph by the author, 1957.
In southern Estonia wooden bowls were not commonly used as regular tableware, even in the 19th century. Tubs and firkins were preferred. In fact, not every household owned a bowl; only on festive occasions, such as weddings, were they considered the right tableware to serve food. (
While the bowl remained basically the product of turnery, i.e. of specialized craftsmen, the trough (Fig. 75) was essential in every household, and was produced by each peasant for his own purposes. Pig troughs, draw-well troughs, washing troughs, etc., were generally hollowed out of pine or aspen trunks. Bread troughs (known in the southern Estonian dialect as โmรตhk,โ and in the islands as โleiva-lรตimeโ) were usually made of oak in the islands or spruce on the mainland. Most of the work of hollowing the trough was with the ordinary axe, and only in the last stages of the job was the scraping axe applied. Animal troughs were mostly made with the axe alone, while bread and washing troughs were finished off with the draw knife. In view of the tendency to crack, especially at the ends, the troughs were mostly coated with tar.
Troughs are the oldest artificially made containers used for agricultural and household purposes. The terms denoting them originate in the primitive communal period (northern Estonian โkรผna,โ southern Estonian โruhiโ). (18) Their use remained widespread right into the 19th century; in addition to the uses already enumerated; the troughs were employed for beer brewing, wine making, corn chaffing, etc. Even small-sized troughs used as tableware were not unknown.
The trough as a water-going vessel is of even older usage on all inland waterways, but especially so in southern Estonia where they may be seen to this day. A similar clumsy conveyance was also used in the Emajรตgi, Pรคrnu and Kasari river basins.
Building river craft is obviously more intricate and difficult than hollowing out a trough, and was therefore taken over by the boat builder rather than being left to home industry. Hollowing out a boat is externally similar to boats constructed of planks. They are generally 16′-20′ (5-6 m) long, up to 3-1/2′ (1 m) wide, very light and easy to sail.
They were made of aspen, which is light, easy to process and shape, green wood being used. Because the sides had to be fairly thin (in some places 3/4″ to 1″ or 2โ3 cm), the wood had to be carefully worked so as to not cut through it. There were various means of checking the thickness of the side so as to gauge the correct measurement.
The simple way was by knocking on the side with the axe, the sound produced indicating the extent of hollowing. In the Pรคrnu and Emajรตgi rivers basins a more advanced method was employed. Before the hollowing process was begun, a number of holes were bored along the side of the stem at intervals of about 11-3/4″ (30 cm), the depth of which corresponded to the required thickness of the sides of the boat. When the hole became visible from the inside, this served as an indication that the correct thickness had been reached. When the work was done, the holes were plugged with pieces of wood.
Sometimes the plugging was done before hollowing, in which case wood of a different color was used for plugging. There was a special measuring rod for the plugs whereby they were cut to the correct length, corresponding to the desired thickness of the sides of the boat.
FIG. 76. Expanding the boat. Tori, Riisa village, Photograph By M. Riis, 1920. Photo library 133:38.
Prior to proceeding with the final curving of the sides of the boat, it was heated by boiling water or, what is simpler, by plunging heated stones into the water in the boat. Planks the length of the desired width were then pressed into the boat, giving it the required width (Fig. 76). If the first sticks were too short, they were replaced with longer ones until a sufficient width was achieved.
For propping up the upended boat, arched wooden ribs were inserted; these were generally made from naturally shaped timber (usually roots). In order to secure the ribs, varying methods were applied. In Pรคrnu special hooks (known as โnakid, kabadโ) were knocked into the inner sides of the boat, the ribs being attached thereto with strips of bast. In Kasari the ribs were secured with pegs or wedged in. In the Emajรตgi river basin the ribs were simply knocked into the sides of the boat.
Similar types of boats were known in many lands where man navigated rivers and lakes, throughout northern Eurasia, and as far south as the lands of the South American Indians. In Northern Europe the eastern Baltic coast constitutes the limit of popularity of this type of boat. (19)
Finally, consideration must be given to the trough-shaped coffin hollowed out of pine trunks. In Latvia a few such coffins were still being made in the previous century. (20) In Russian forest areas these coffins were sometimes homemade (in Kostroma in the 19th century). (21)
Research has established the existence of such coffins in eastern Estonia, in what was called โthe old days.โ (22) Hollowed-out coffins were recently used for the burial of small children (V. Jaagupi, Lutsi). The only eyewitness description in Estonia comes from Hargla by Kusta Lipstok (b. 1866), who remembers seeing such a coffin being made in his boyhood. (23) โThe coffin was made in the forest. It was worked like an ordinary trough. First a groove was made with an axe, big enough to get the scooping axe in. Then it was scooped out further. At the bottom it was narrower than at the top. The lid was made from a different log and a cross-bar was secured at one end of the coffin.โ Grooves were scooped out along the sides of the coffin and the lid was made to slide inside along those grooves. Some sources believe that the log used was cut half horizontally, so both the coffin and the lid came from the same trunk (Narva region, Jรตhvi, Vastseliina). This was also the accepted method for processing hollowed coffins in Latvia.
At any rate, it is clear that in the second half of the 19th century hollowed coffins were rarely used in Estonia. This means that coffins made of boards were already in use in the Estonian village throughout the 19th century and possibly earlier.
4 e.g. KT 101, 9, Rรคpina. 5 Such spoons with an oval bowl occur in the Slavonic area in Central Europe (Opole) since the 10th to the 12th centuries. (Hoลubowicz, Fig. 122:1 p. 277). Wooden spoons used in the 15th to the 16th century are relatively similar in their shape to Russian spoons of the 19th century. (ะ ะฐะฑะธะฝะพะฒะธั. ะะท ะธcัoัะธะธ ะฑััะฐ, Fig. 10:7. p. 51). 6 KT 101.9โ10 (Joosep Hermann, b. 1866), cf. also EA 15, 116 Avinurme; KV 78, 124 Jรตhvi. 7 Mikkola, p. 45, 66; Kalima, Slaavil, san., p. 120. 8 ล nore, plate II, 5, 8. 9 Kalima, Ostseefinn. lehnwรถrter, p. 157. 10 ะฅะฐะบัะปะธะฝะตะฝ I, p. 103; Ariste, Hiiu, p. 176. 11 Saareste p. 245. 12 EA 3, 489. Also the hollow of an ancient tool, the mortar, has been frequently burned by means of hot coals, but unfortunately there is no closer description of that work. The mortar was usually made of spruce or pine. As it was always necessary to hollow it along the timber and conically downward, making of a mortar was rather cumbersome without the help of burning. This has been pointed out in Poland (Moszyลski, p. 670), in Finland (Arkisto III. p. 237), among the Chuvash, (ะะธะบะพะปััะบะธะน, p. 137), among the Mari (Kััะบะพะฒะฐ, p. 59) and others. A more thorough description of the hollowing of the mortar in that way is in Hungary (Bรกtky, p. 316). 13 About these words see Saareste, p. 244. 14 Kalima, Slaavil, san., p. 180. 15 Ariste, Eesti-rts., p. 107. 16 Wooden tableware was quite usual in Europe in the Middle Ages. It had an important place in Russian cities in the 11th to the 17th centuries. (ะ ะฐะฑะธะฝะพะฒะธั. ะะท ะธััะพัะธะธ ะฑััะฐ, p. 50-51. In Germany on the Lรผbeck citizensโ tables it ruled until the 16th century (Neugebauer, p. 190) and on Finnish peasantsโ tables as well as in Estonia it dominated as late as the middle of the 18th century (Sahlberg, p. 37). 17 KT 18, 32-33 Rรตuge; cf. also EA 35, 761 Sangaste, EA 39, 371 Hargla, EA 37, 182 onward. Saarde. 18 See Saareste, pp. 246-248. Later the Low German mold, moll, loanword (< โkasks molde, molleโ) which usually denotes a smaller trough has been added to the names mentioned before. Also the name of the long cattle drinking trough in southwest Estonia is of late origin. 19 See I. Manninen, Zur Ethnologies des Einbaums. โ Eurasia Septentrionalis Antiqua I, Helsinki 1927, pp. 4-17 About their manufacture in Finland a well-illustrated overview: Vilkuna-Mรคkinen, pp. 302-313. 20 Bielensteil, p. 181; J. Janusems, Bluka zฤrki. โ Senatne un mฤksla II, Riga 1939 pp. 41-52. 21 Laugaste. p. 77 (79). 22 e.g. EA 38, 157 Narva parish.; KT 76, GโJรตhvi; EA 3. 491 V. Jaagupi; EA 40, 303 Simuna; EA 2, 417 Rรตngu; EA 39, 347 and the foll., Hargla; EA 36, 771 Vastseliina; EA 31, 177 Lutsi Estonians. 23 EA 38, 347 and the foll. Figs. pp. 351, 355.
The Anarchistโs Gift Guide โ comprised only of stuff I have bought and used in our shop โ starts today and runs over the next two weeks.
I started this โgift guideโ years ago (read past recommendations here) after watching a woodworking TV personalityโs โgift guideโ for one of his sponsors. Clearly, heโd been given a list of worthless stuff that they wanted gone.
I thought: What if some poor spouse/child/friend actually took this crap advice?
This gift guide is โ as always โ unsponsored. Toolmakers who ask to be included in the guide (and they sometimes do) are automatically excluded from it. We donโt make money from these recommendations โ there are no affiliate links. I paid full price for these items. And I’ve sought out at least a few things that your children could afford to buy for you.
Here goes.
Marshalltown 829 Masonry Brush This brush was suggested by a reader. Itโs a U.S.-made masonry brush that is just the right size and stiffness to make a great bench brush. And itโs less than $12. I bought two, and I plan to buy a few more for our machine room.
Most bench brushes have fibers that are too fine for my taste. A bench brush needs some coarse fibers to deal with chips โ not just fine sawdust.
The Marshalltown 829 (shown above) is made using Tampico fiber, which is harvested from cacti in northern Mexico. The fibers come from inside the cactus leaves. And the fibers are what makes this brush a gem (the hardwood handle and block are nothing special). The fibers are bundled in a way that makes them just right for bench work. You can brush up fine sanding dust. And you can also wrangle those weird cross-grain chips that elude fine brushes.
The Marshalltown 829 is not pretty. But it works exceptionally well.
Full-size coffer from the book on which Chris is currently working, “The American Peasant.” He left town and left me in charge of painting.
Thanks for the questions! Comments are now closed.
I’m at the shop today, waiting for yesterday’s paint to dry (it’s linseed oil paint, so I’ll be waiting a few days beyond today, too…but I won’t have to apply more than the one coat!). So, I’m ready to answer your woodworking-, paint-, cat- and early modern literature-related questions. Chris is on vacation…so while he might chime in, I hope he does not.
Type your queries in the comment field below, and I will do my best to answer them. (If any are about chairs, I will likely be reading from the Book(s) of Schwarz to answer…so maybe check there for yourself first?) Comments will close at around 5 p.m.
โ Fitz
p.s. Unlike Chris, I do not like to get up early…so you may not see any answers from me until well after this post goes live.
The following is excerpted from “The Anarchistโs Design Book,” by Christopher Schwarz, an exploration of furniture forms that have persisted outside of the high styles that dominate every museum exhibit, scholarly text and woodworking magazine of the last 200 years.
There are historic furniture forms out there that have been around for almost 1,000 years that donโt get written about much. They are simple to make. They have clean lines. And they can be shockingly modern.
This book explores 18 of these forms ย โ a bed, dining tables, chairs, chests, desks, shelving, stools โ and offers a deep exploration into the two construction techniques (staked and boarded) used to make these pieces that have been forgotten, neglected or rejected.
Hereโs a simple stool design that represents a lot of false starts, research and prototyping. Itโs not perfect, but it is a nice, stout stool. The stool is based on 18th-century low stools from American homes. This stool is also an excellent introduction into building the seat and undercarriage of a full-blown chair.
This stool has a pine seat and hardwood legs โ ash in this case. The seat is 13″ in diameter and the legs hold the seat about 16″ off the ground โ a good height for a low stool. The H-stretcher is a bit of overkill. But I think you should include it. It will teach you how to add stretchers to any of the chairs in this book โ or from other peopleโs books. So letโs go.
Make the Seat The seat is a softwood that is about 1-1/2″ to 1-5/8″ thick. You can glue up the seat from two bits of wood (thatโs what I did) and put the seam in the dead center of the seat. Keep the leg joints away from this seam; you donโt want the legs levering the seat apart. (Yes, a long-grain-to-long-grain joint is stronger than the wood itself in a perfect world. But that is not where we live.)
Around & around. Here Iโm marking out the diameter of the seat. Note the two holes in the corners of the blank. These are test mortises that will allow me to test the fit of the tenons on the legs. Waste not, blah blah, blah.
With the seat blank glued up, use a compass or trammel points to lay out the 13″-diameter seat. Cut the seat to shape. Then cut a 1/2″ x 1/2″ bevel on its underside. This bevel lightens the look (and the weight) of the stool. You can do this on the band saw or do it with a block plane or spokeshave. Now you can mark out the location of the joints. Hereโs the easy way. On the underside of the seat, draw a line through the centerpoint of the circle. Make this line parallel or perpendicular to the glue seam in the seat (if you have a seam).
Around again. After cutting the seat round, tilt the sawโs table to 45ยฐ to cut the bevel on the underside of the seat. Mark the 1/2″ bevel on the seatโs edge and follow that with your sawโs blade.
Place a protractor on your pencil line and mark the seat at 45ยฐ on both the left and right sides of 90ยฐ. Connect the marks with the centerpoint and you will have a perfect โXโ on the underside. Now take a ruler and mark out the location of the four leg mortises 1-1/2″ in from the edge of the seatโs bevel. (Itโs all shown in the photo [below] if you look closely.)
Good layout. There are 100 ways to do this. Place the protractor on your line and mark the seat at 45ยฐ on both sides of the protractor. Connect these marks to the centerpoint. And done. Perfect.
Make the Legs The legs are 1-1/2″ x 1-1/2″ x 18″ and are made from a dead-straight hardwood such as oak, maple, ash or hickory. Knock off the edges until the legs are octagons. Then taper the legs so they taper to 1″ at the top.
For this project, I decided to use cylindrical tenons. While I prefer tapered tenons, cylindrical tenons are far more common in the historical record and are easier to make, especially if you own a lathe.
How this works. The bedan toolโs sizing attachment is set to .940″ โ the diameter of the bit for the leg mortises. Slide the sizing tool toward the cutting edge until it matches this measurement. Then lock the position of the sizing attachment and make a test tenon. Really. Test tenon. Donโt ignore me.
The tenons for this stool are 1″ in diameter and 2-1/4″ long. Turning them on the lathe is straightforward. If you want your tenons to be dead-on accurate, I recommend you purchase a bedan tool with a sizing attachment. A bedan tool is basically a wide parting tool with its sides relieved (like a traditional mortise chisel) to allow it to maneuver in the cut without binding. The sizing tool is an attachment that clamps to the tool and allows you to set the diameter of the cut.
Perfect tenons. The sizing tool lets you cut tenons within .001″. The tooling works just like any standard parting tool.
To use the bedan tool and sizing attachment, first drill a test mortise and gauge the exact diameter of the bit that will drill your mortises. Set a dial caliper to that measurement (lock it) and use the caliper to set the bedan tool and its sizing attachment.
Test each tenon. After I cut each tenon, I check it in the test mortise (made with scraps from the seat). This is a backstop because I donโt trust my bedan sizing tool, though it has yet to let me down.
Bore the Mortises The leg mortises are bored at an 21ยฐ resultant angle. The sightline is 0ยฐ and runs directly into the centerpoint of the seat. Set a sliding bevel to 21ยฐ and tape it to the sightline. Clamp a backing board below the seat to reduce (but probably not eliminate) any splintering.
With this stool, Iโm using a 24 mm bit from WoodOwl that is supposed to leave a clean exit hole without splintering. It does a pretty good job, though no bit is perfect (hence my backing board). These particular bits work best in an electric drill.
The tape helps. The vibrations from boring can make your sliding bevel move. And even a little bit of movement makes a big difference in the leg angles. So spring for the tape.
Drill the four mortises. Then put the legs into their mortises and have a gander at how accurate you were.
Rotate the legs in their mortises and orient them so their attractive surfaces face out. Then meaningfully mark the legs and the seat so you can get the legs back into this ideal arrangement.
Right about here. Putting the stretchers at this height makes the stool look like a chair that has been shrunk just a bit (which is a pretty accurate assessment of the design).
Now itโs time to bore the mortises for the side stretchers. These are positioned about 4″ to 4-1/2″ up from the floor. Hereโs how to mark them out. First, level the stool like you are preparing to cut the legs to length. Shim the feet until the seat is level all around. Then cut a 4×4 block of wood to 4-1/2″ long and place it on the bench. Fetch the half-pencil (itโs a pencil planed to half its thickness). Mark the location of the mortises for the side stretchers on the legs.
On the tip of disaster. After you do this a few times, youโll gladly bore these mortises without guidance from others. Until you get this confidence, have a spotter tell you if you need to raise or lower the drill to keep the bit in line with both mortise locations.
To bore the mortises, flip the chair upside down so the seat is on the benchtop. Place a couple sticks between the seat and benchtop to let the tenons poke through the seat. Then take an awl and mark the centerpoint of each mortise on each leg. I do this by eye. Measuring always seems to make it worse.
Tiny test tenons. These thin offcuts determine the final length of the stretcher. Pinch them together and mark across the offcuts. Remove the pieces and reassemble them to determine the final stretcher length.
Chuck a 5/8″ Forstner bit into a cordless drill. I drill the 7/8″-deep mortises in the legs entirely freehand, using the seat and the marks on the legs as a guide. Rotate the leg in its mortise so you can get the drill and the bit in position in line with the leg. The drill and bit should be aligned with the mortise on the opposite leg. The photo [“On the tip of disaster”] shows how this works.
Stretchers. The side stretchers are installed. And the medial stretcher is laid on top. Now weโre ready to drill the mortises for the medial stretcher.
If you lack confidence because this is your first rodeo, have a spotter give you some directions. They should be able to tell you if your drill bit is in line with both mortise locations in the legs. Drill the blind mortises, stopping before the bit explodes out the backside.
Boring again. These mortises are only 5/8″ deep. Put some fresh tape on your bit before boring these joints. This is not where you want to make a fatal error.
Make the Stretchers The stretchers are 1″ x 1″ material that has been planed octagonal. After preparing the overlong stock for the stretchers, you need to determine how long they should be for your stool. To do this, fetch two skinny scraps. Pinch them together and press the ends into the bottoms of the mortises. Make a pencil mark across the two scraps. Remove them from the mortises. Reassemble them with the marks aligned. Measure the overall length, and thatโs the finished length of the stretcher.
Do this for both stretchers. Mine were slightly different lengths. If you are cutting the tenons on the lathe, then add 2″ to the calculated length to give you some room to work without running your tools into the headstock and tailstock of the machine. (I wrote this sentence to remind myself to do this next time.)
Cut the 5/8″-diameter tenons on the side stretchers using the same techniques outlined for the legs. Yup to the bedan tool and the sizing attachment. After turning the tenons, saw the stretchers to their final length and install them in their mortises.
The medial stretcher is easy. Mark the centerpoint on each side stretcher. Use the same 5/8″ Forstner bit to drill a 5/8″-deep mortise in each side stretcher. Once again, I drill these freehand. Keep the bit 90ยฐ to the stretcher and parallel to one of the facets of the octagonal stretcher.
You know what to do next. Get the skinny scraps and use them to determine the finished length of the medial stretcher. Cut the stretcher 2″ overlong. Turn the tenons on the ends with the bedan tool. Cut the medial stretcher to finished size and fit everything. If the stool doesnโt explode, you are ready to glue it up.
Assembly Before you disassemble the dry-fit stool, mark where the wedges should go in the legsโ tenons. I use a Sharpie for this to avoid confusion. Disassemble all the parts and mark them up so you can assemble them in the same orientation with glue in the equation.
Kerf the legs to receive wedges. Use a band saw or a handsaw for this. You want the kerf to be of significant thickness. Make some 1″-wide wedges for the legs.
Right before assembly, clean up all the tool marks left on the legs, stretchers and seat with planes and spokeshaves. This is quick work with sharp tools.
Here is the sequence for assembly. Learn this and youโll be ready for a full-on chair in your future. Glue the medial stretcher to the side stretchers. Twist the parts until the assembly sits flat.
Put glue in the mortises in the legs. Wipe off any excess and put the stretchersโ tenons into the legs in the mortises. This will be an ungainly thing, like a baby goat. Rotate the legs until the assembly is stable. Set it on the bench.
Paint the interior of the mortises in the seat with glue. Do not skimp or get in a hurry. Take a deep breath.
Navigate the legs into their mortises. This might require some grabbing and bending. Thatโs OK as long as the seat doesnโt split. The goal is to get the tip of each tenon into its mortise.
Tap the legs down, working around the stoolโs four legs until the legs are seated. Small taps are better than big ones.
Flip the assembled stool over. Paint the wedges with glue and drive them in with a hammer.
The great leveler. This inexpensive saw made its way into our shop via an unknown path. I didnโt purchase it. No one sent it to me. It just was there one day. So we stoned off the set of its teeth and use it as a huge (and fast) flush-cutting saw. If you are visited by the saw fairy (as I was) this is a good thing to do.
Let the glue dry overnight. The next morning, saw the tenons flush to the seat. There are (at least) 50 ways to level your tenons. When your seat is flat and not saddled, the fastest way is with a Japanese ryoba saw. We took a hardware-store saw and stoned the sides of its teeth with a diamond plate to remove the set of the teeth. It now barely scratches the seat in use.
After sawing off the tenons, plane the seat to remove any toolmarks.
Level the Feet As shown in other sections of this book, there are lots of ways to level the feet. Picking one method depends on how your head works. Hereโs how I did it for this stool. I first leveled the seat using wedges underneath the four legs.
Then I determined the final seat height (16″) and made a block of wood to guide a pencil. The height of the block represented the amount of leg I needed to saw off to achieve the final seat height. In this case, the block was about 1″ high. I placed this block on the benchtop and used a half-pencil. Then I sawed off the legs to their finished lengths. I then chamfered the feet to prevent the feet from splintering out when the stool is dragged across a floor.
The half-pencil and a block of wood helps you mark out the correct length of the legs.
And then you are done with construction. Finishing these stools can be as simple as a coat of linseed oil and wax. Or you can dive into milk paint, soap finishes or the Wild World of Wiping Varnishes. Do your best work โ you donโt want to be accused of polishing a turd. (And you thought youโd get away without a single stool joke.)
